


Of Sonnets and Sketches

by TWDObsessive



Category: The Walking Dead (TV), The Walking Dead - All Media Types
Genre: ...and then do it., Andrea draws Rickyl doing it, Andrea ships Rickyl, Bad Flirting, Bottom Rick, Daryl teaches Art, Discovery of fanArt, First Kiss, First Time, Flirting, High School Chaperon AU, M/M, Rick and Daryl see the drawing of them doing it, Rick is one of those types that unpacks things in drawers, Rick teaches English Lit, Teasing, This fic includes real illustrations, sharing a hotel room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-16
Updated: 2015-09-16
Packaged: 2018-04-20 12:40:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4787597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TWDObsessive/pseuds/TWDObsessive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a prompt fill and birthday gift to my dearest friend, Skarlatha.</p><p>Rick and Daryl are chaperons on a High School field trip and end up having to share a room.  As you can likely imagine.... stuff and thangs occur.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Sonnets and Sketches

**Author's Note:**

  * For [skarlatha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skarlatha/gifts).



> Thanks to Skarlatha for the prompt and for having a birthday!  
> Thanks to marooncamaro and Michelle_A_Emerlind for Beta'ing since I couldn't have Skari beta her own gift!  
> Another special thank you can be found in the end notes.

“Language, Ms. Chambler,” Rick said without even turning from his seat on the school bus. 

“Mr. Grimes, man. I just said ‘shit’. That barely counts,” the young brunette whined.

“Crap barely counts. Shit counts. Stop it,” Daryl murmured from the other front seat.

Rick tried not to grin. “You aren’t helping, you know.” 

“I’m totally helping,” Daryl insisted. “Tara- What does a bear do in the woods?” 

“Craps, Mr. Dixon.” 

Daryl nodded his head. “Good girl,” he turned to Rick. “See? She didn’t say ‘shit’. Mission accomplished.” He looked back to his drawing pad and added some shading to a sketch of Superman.

Rick again worked hard to keep his expression serious. He’d been working at the same school as Daryl ever since the divorce last year. They couldn’t be more different, but for some reason, Rick found his easy-going nature refreshing even though he still didn’t approve of cussing in front of the students.

“I’m trying to teach these kids to be eloquent.” 

“C’mon Grimes, it’s a field trip. Loosen up.” Daryl winked at the creative writing teacher as Noah walked up the aisle and squatted down next to him with an open notebook.

“Hey, Daryl. What do you think?” the young boy asked as he thrust his notebook into Daryl’s hands. 

“‘S good, Noah. Need a little more dimension on the right arm. Good shading, though. Nice lines.” Noah beamed and returned to his seat. 

“Why do you let them call you Daryl?” Rick asked. 

“My name’s Daryl. You want them to call me Fred?”

“They SHOULD be calling you Mr. Dixon. They need to learn to be respectful of their elders.”

“I ain’t that old. But I guess they should call you Mister on account of those greys I been seeing.” Daryl smirked and went back to shadowing his sketch. Although he was focusing on Superman’s hair, he couldn’t help but think of Rick’s. Daryl liked to rag on him about the grey, but he actually found it rather attractive. Rick Grimes was one of those very straight-laced, by-the-book types, but for some reason, he let his curls grow long and he sported a beard that was not as well groomed as one would think a guy like Rick would keep it. It made him a little mysterious.

“Ain’t? Really? Do you say that in front of your students? You are destroying everything I'm trying to teach!” Rick knew he was just trying to keep Daryl’s attention. And Daryl knew he was just trying to keep Daryl’s attention. But the art teacher played along anyway.

Daryl leaned over the aisle and pointed at the homework Rick was checking. “Do you really draw those stupid smiley faces when you grade? I'm trying to inspire young artists, not future emoticon inventors. You’re destroying my shit, too.”

Rick looked at him and narrowed his eyes. 

“Sorry, Grimes.… I meant crap.”

“You’re an art teacher, Daryl. How many of these kids do you think are going to be famous artists that I'm destroying with my not-to-scale smilie faces?

“How many were going to be famous poets until they heard me say ain't and it ruined their lives?”

They heard the sound of bubble gum popping from the seat behind Rick. “Are you guys gonna flirt like this the whole way to New York?” Andrea Harrison asked slumped in the seat as she chewed some melon-flavored gum and started to blow another bubble. 

“Ms. Harrison, this isn’t flirting, trust me.” Rick corrected her.

“Yeah. Ok,” Andrea said with a hard eye roll. Then she looked across the aisle at Tara and launched into a high-pitched sarcastic voice, “Oh my God Tara,” she said as she twisted a finger in her hair, “Are you drawing smiley faces again? You are soooo bad.”

Daryl turned in his seat. “Enough of your shit, Andrea. And spit out the gum.” 

Tara giggled. “Mr. Grimes, Mr. Dixon said ‘shit’.”

Rick ran his hand through his hair. “Eugene, can this thing go any faster?”  
___________________________________

Once the students were all checked into their rooms, Daryl and Rick stood at the Marriott counter to finally get their key cards. The woman behind the desk flicked back her long dreads and put one envelope with two cards up on the counter. 

“Here you go,” she said with a half smile. “Room 69.”

Daryl and Rick looked at each other and back to Michonne, according to her nametag.

“Ummm.. The school didn’t make arrangements for us to have separate rooms?” Rick asked.

Michonne scooted over in front of the computer and typed. Looked. Typed again. And then looked back at the teachers. “Sorry fella’s, just one room and we are all booked up tonight. There’s two queen beds in there though.”

“Are you kidding me? Not a single room in this entire place?” Rick asked.

Michonne shook her head. “Sorry. The Archbishop is here tonight. And his whole entourage. That’s why your driver had to park the bus back over the bridge in Jersey. We had to rope off the whole front of the building for their parking. Good thing we had to send the driver away though or else you’d have had three in your room.”

Daryl grumbled, grabbed the key and looked at the number on the little envelope. “Sixty-nine, lady? REALLY?” he said in a huff and stormed off towards the elevators. Guess there’d be no self-gratification tonight. Goddamnit! Daryl has a very strict routine that keeps him zen and missing a night of relief is really going to fuck with his mojo. 

Rick sighed, took the other key and walked over to wait for the elevator next to Daryl.

“Don’t touch my stuff.” Daryl said without looking at him. 

“Why would I want to touch your stuff?”

“I got nice stuff.”

“You got a ratty LL bean backpack with holes in that looks like you’ve had it since YOU were in high school.”

“Exactly. It’s vintage. Don’t touch it.”

Rick laughed as the elevator doors opened. “Believe me, I have way better stuff and thangs to touch than you do.” Daryl looked at him with furrowed eyebrows and a hesitant grin. “I mean just don’t touch my stuff either.” Rick snapped as he stomped into the elevator, Daryl sauntered in behind him and pressed the sixth floor button. 

“I’m sure I can keep my hands off your stuff and thangs for one night,” Daryl said calmly.

When they got to their room Daryl opened the door and went for the far bed.

"Why do you get the bed by the window?" Rick pouted.

"What are you, five? I'm an artist, I need good light."

Rick tossed his bag on the bed he was clearly going to be stuck with. “Exactly how much drawing are you planning on doing? We are only here one night and the sun’s almost gone.”

“Can’t sleep in that one man. It’s not Feng Shui.”

Rick started unpacking his bag as he muttered a “whatever” under his breath. Daryl clicked on the TV and plopped down on his bed, his backpack left on the floor where he dropped it. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m unpacking. You know the ART of putting your shit away instead of throwing it on the floor like an animal.”

Daryl fought a grin and darted his eyes back to the TV. “Andrea’d think you're flirtin’ with me, old man.” 

Rick stopped what he was doing and folded his arms. “a). Andrea is high. Literally. Right now. I smelled it on her at the last rest stop. And b). I’m like two years older than you. Oh, and c). I'm not flirting with you. Please. You'd KNOW if I was flirting with you. I'm eloquent and quick-witted. I don't use sarcasm to flirt. Pfft... Trust me that is not flirting."

"Isn't there a thing in your Shakespeare class about someone who doth protest too much?"

Rick opened his mouth, thought better of it and closed it. He started unpacking with more fervor, slamming drawers as he went.

Daryl stopped flipping stations at the Pay-Per-View advertising channel. It showed several women and men naked from the shoulders up and had lame 70’s porn music playing with “ORDER NOW!” scrolling across the screen. 

“Dude- it’s like dinner time. Can you ummm… go. Like to dinner or something? For at least ten minutes?” Daryl asked.

Before Rick could even begin to respond, there was a knock at the door. “Turn the channel dumbass, ‘s probably one of the kids.” Rick answered the door to a bellboy with a dinner cart. 

“Room Service,” the young man said.

“We didn’t order any room service,” Rick said and he jumped as Daryl walked up behind him like a silent jungle cat. 

"What is it?" The younger man asked, grabbing for one of the silver covers.

"Strawberries with chocolate for dipping and two bottles of champagne sir."

Daryl stuck an index finger into the chocolate and sucked on it. "Awesome," he said as he started tugging the cart into their room. 

"Wait!! Wait..wait!" Rick shouted. "We didn't order this. I'm not paying for this."

"It's already been paid for sir," the bellboy replied.

"Who the hell paid for it?" Rick asked, still holding a hand on the cart to keep Daryl from dragging it into the room. 

"Let me guess. Young Blonde chomping on bubblegum, probably tipped you with a joint?" Daryl asked as he picked up one of the bottles of champagne and started working off the top. The bellboy's blush gave him away.

As Rick ran a hand through his hair, Daryl dragged the cart passed him into their room. "Don't be a dick, Grimes. It's customary to tip."

Rick stood tight-lipped as the bellboy waited, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. He reached in his wallet, pulled out a five, shoved it at the kid and slammed the door shut.

He turned to Daryl who was sitting Indian style on his bed, the bad 70's music from the TV back on and drinking straight from one of the bottles. This was NOT what Rick had imagined when he left the house this morning. Well, no. It wasn't what he expected. He MAY have imagined similar things in the past few months. Daryl sucking on fingers. Stretched out on a bed. Maybe some things like that. But just because he's severely under-sexed since the divorce. Not because he had a thing for Daryl. He just had a thing for anyone that had a pulse at this point. Right?

He shook his head to rid it of the thoughts that dripped down him like rain on a windshield, blurring everything right in front of him. "Should we be doing something about Andrea and the weed?" Rick asked as he plopped onto his bed and reached for a strawberry. 

"Why? We ain't the cops."

"We are the adult supervision."

"We'll tell her not to smoke pot tomorrow. I'm sure that will work as good as the last time I told her not to smoke pot."

"Why on earth did she buy us this?" Rick asked as he peeled the plastic off one of the paper cups and poured himself some champagne.

"She ships us," Daryl said with his mouth full.

"She SHIPS us? What the hell does that mean?"

"Means she thinks we'd make a good couple," Daryl answered.

Rick had the champagne to his lips and took the guzzle.

"And she draws pictures in class of us boning."

Rick spit out his drink and went into a fit of hard coughs.

"Dude, don't waste the champagne. Andrea paid good money for that."

"WHAT!? She draws us?" Rick gasped.

"She's good too." Daryl looked him over. "She gives you a little too much credit in the muscle department though."

"There are DRAWINGS laying around the school of us like," he lowered his voice, "doing it?"

"Doing it? Not so eloquent now, are you, professor?"

"I just... I just..." Rick stammered.

"You just want to see them?"

"No! Fuck no-"

"Cause I have them all in my vintage backpack," Daryl interrupted as he sucked more chocolate off a finger.

"Stop double dipping your finger, man. I might want some of that."

"Some of what? My finger or the chocolate?" Daryl smirked. God he loved driving this guy nuts. He's been dreaming about seeing him come undone underneath him for months.

"Are you gonna show me these pictures or what?" Rick huffed as he took the bottle Daryl had been working on and lifted it to his lips.

Daryl gave Rick a predatory grin as he stood, wiped his sticky fingers on his jeans and started rooting through his bag. 

While the younger man's back was turned, Rick tipped the bottle up again and drained of all that was left. It wouldn't be the worst thing, right? Rick did get the divorce because he knew he wasn't straight. He'd never been with a man... But you just know these things. He preferred the hard angles of a jawline, broad muscular shoulders, rough stubble and a man's deep timbre. He was fairly certain he also preferred cock. 

One of the first things Rick did after he and Lori separated was to buy porn and an anal device he found online to test out the feelings. He was more than certain, and rather quickly, that he'd made the right decision. 

But he didn't originally imagine being with someone quite so rough around the edges as Daryl. He was so... vulgar and filthy. He imagined being with someone who'd write him sonnets and looked good in a suit.

Rick highly doubted that Daryl even owned a suit. Ever. And he likely did not know what a sonnet was. A limerick? Yes, probably. But not a sonnet. 

Daryl climbed back up on the bed with a piece of paper held against his chest so Rick wouldn't see it. "This one's my favorite!" He said.

Rick stood and started working the top off the next bottle. "Well, what are you waiting for? A drum roll? Just lemme see the damn thing!" Rick said as he sat next to Daryl on the bed that gets the better light. He took a few more swallows of champagne and then held it out as an offering to swap it with Daryl for the picture.

Daryl made the switch and kept his eyes on Rick's expression. The writing teacher's face remained passive as he took in the image.

"Some of the kids think you got divorced cause you’re gay. I'm thinking they might be right."

Rick shot eyes over at Daryl. "Oh? And you know that from my face?"

Daryl pointed to Rick's crotch with the bottle. "Naw, I know that from your boner," the younger man said casually.

Rick shifted in his seat and blocked Daryl's view of his junk with the paper. "I'll have you know these muscles are NOT that far off."  
Daryl slid closer til their thighs were touching. He handed Rick the bottle and the leaned in and pointed to the drawing. 

"See these lines here?" He asked as his fingers gently ran along Rick's illustrated shoulders. "They're too high. Needs to come down a bit. Plus, there's no chest hair here." He waved his hand in dramatic disappointment over the piece of paper. "I don't buy that. I peg you for chest hair."

Rick took a long, slow swallow of champagne then looked very pointedly at Daryl. "Are you flirting with me, Mr. Dixon?" Rick grinned, the warm liquid courage in his gut fueling him.

Daryl didn't answer. He just dipped a finger back in the chocolate and sucked again.

"Told you to stop that. I might want some," Rick swallowed hard.

Daryl dipped his finger again and held it out to Rick's lips. A few seconds of a standoff ticked by.

"Go on, Mr. Grimes. You know you want to."

Rick felt his already hard length get even stiffer at the soft purr of Daryl's voice. 

"We are supposed to be the responsible adults on this trip. What if one of the kids call?" Rick asked.

"We'll answer the phone."

"But... What if we're in the middle of...thangs."

"We stop."

Daryl waited patiently, his chocolate-coated finger still held before Rick's lips.

"Not sure I'm gonna be capable of stopping if we start," Rick said as he took another guzzle of courage.

Daryl moved on the bed and towered over Rick who shied away from him, backing away until he was flat on his back and Daryl was over him. "Open," Daryl said.

Rick got momentarily lost in the denim blue of the artist’s intense eyes. They bore into him with promises and power and Rick wanted what they were offering. He opened his mouth, eyes still held captive by Daryl’s and the artist placed his finger inside. Rick hollowed out his cheeks as he sucked dramatically at the chocolate and then slowly licked at it like like a gentle kitten. 

"Good, right?" Daryl asked, growing harder at the thought of Rick obeying him so quickly and sucking so seductively. The writer nodded his head as the younger man brought the finger back to his own mouth, making sure Rick hadn't missed anything.

"More?" Daryl asked, straddling the older man. Rick nodded, eyes fixated on Daryl's. The art teacher leaned back and dipped two fingers in the chocolate and brought them to his own mouth. He licked at them obscenely and then leaned down and slowly pressed his lips to Rick's, encouraging his mouth to grant him entrance then slipping his chocolate coated tongue inside. 

Rick chased the art teacher’s thick tongue, licking and sucking at it. He was feeling the booze enough to be relaxed but not so much that he'd regret a single touch or lick. When Daryl pulled away Rick looked to his hands. 

"You got chocolate all over the comforter."

"Sex is messy, Rick." Daryl said like he was a sex guru of some kind. 

"Is that what we're doing? Sex?" Rick asked awkwardly.

"I fucking hope so Mr. Grimes, because you are goddamn gorgeous right now." Daryl started popping buttons off Rick's shirt, from the bottom to the top. "Pupils all big." Pop. "Nervous and wonderin’ how all this is gonna work." Pop. "So fuckin’ hard." Pop. "Desperate for me to slide my tongue back into you." Pop. 

Daryl got to the top button, popped it and spread Rick's shirt open. He smiled wide and ran a hand over Rick's chest, tickling the soft hairs there. "Just like I thought," Daryl whispered as he ran his hands up over Rick's shoulders. "And maybe I was wrong about the lines in that drawing. These shoulders are perfection."

"Can I see yours?" Rick asked quietly. His eyes were spinning like deep blue pinwheels, thirsty for more of this new drink that was Daryl.

"Sure, go ahead," Daryl said and nodded down to his shirt, dropping his arms limp at the sides to show Rick that he wanted him to do the honors. 

Rick sat up slowly and reached for the buttons. He unbuttoned without words and carefully pushed the shirt off Daryl shoulders so that it fell to the floor behind him.

Rick ran his eyes over every line of Daryl's chest and suddenly wished he could draw. He was stunning, like the statue of David. Rick swallowed hard.

"Like being a virgin all over again isn't it?" Daryl asked as he took Rick's hands and gently pressed them to his abs and waist. Rick let his hands feel around every contour of the younger man's body. 

"Kiss me again," Rick said, half begging and half demanding.

"Don't be so fucking bossy," Daryl grinned. "Remember your manners and say please.”

"Please."

"Beg me," Daryl said with passion, grinding against Rick then pressing him back to lay on the bed.

"Please, Daryl. I want to feel your lips on mine again. Please," he started rocking his hips against the man above him. 

"Jesus, you're sexy," Daryl said and put a hand behind Rick's head, fingers into his beautiful curls, gripping them as he lowered and pressed his mouth innocently against Rick's. Rick moaned against him, parting his lips in invitation and Daryl plunged his tongue back inside and claimed Rick's mouth, every inch of it. And as he pulled away he bit at the older man's lower lip and tugged gently like a playful puppy. 

Daryl sat back up and traced fingers along Rick's neck. "You have beautiful lines to your throat," the artist said. He leaned down and licked a line directly over Rick's Adam's apple and then bit and sucked at the soft dip between his neck and shoulder. 

"Daryl, don't give me a hickey, man. The kids will see." 

Daryl pulled back only far enough to meet Rick's eyes. "How about you just take what I'm giving out?" Daryl said with a husky sex-thick voice. "And you can thank me for it when I'm done. Les’ you want to take care of this rock hard cock of yours all by your lonesome."

"Ok. No. You can do what you want to me, just please don't stop," he said, baring his neck for Daryl to have as he wished. 

Daryl grinned and went back to nuzzling against his new lover's neck. He bit and sucked, now even more determined to mark him as deep and bold as he could- punishment for complaining. It was going just as Daryl had dreamed. Coming together just like he’d imagined so many times before. Just like he would have imagined it this very night if he’d had the room to himself. God, he had to thank the Archbishop for his extensive entourage. Thank god for extravagant Catholics. 

Daryl finally decided he was done feasting on Rick's neck and he sat back up, "If this is your first time with man, I'd imagine you'd want to try giving head. Y'know, see if you like it. Yes?"

"Yes," Rick gasped.

"You know Mr. Grimes, I really like the sound of you begging for me. Can you do that? Beg for my cock?"

"Please, Daryl, let me suck it. I'll do a good job, I promise." Rick was dizzy from champagne and desire. He felt at ease enough to let his defenses down and to let himself be guided.

"Daryl? It's Mr. Dixon, right? That's what you said earlier today."

Rick nodded his head vigorously as he squirmed under Daryl, arching his back to lift his pelvis towards the friction of Daryl's body.

"Mr. Dixon, please let me have your cock. I want to taste you, want to feel you in my mouth, sliding down my throat, want to show you how good my mouth is for fucking."

"Jesus Fucking Christ, Grimes. You got a hellish mouth on you," Daryl said as he started unzipping and unbuttoning. He stood, tugged off his jeans and Rick stared at the thick, hard cock that sprung to life as the pants were lowered. "On your knees, yes?" Daryl asked.

"Yes," Rick said as he scrambled to the floor. He looked up to Daryl waiting for direction.

Daryl petted at the man's hair, twirling fingers around some of those adorable curls. "You know what you like done to you, so just do that to me, ok?" Daryl coached.

Rick nodded and put a hand on Daryl's cock. It was hot, on fire almost. Was his own cock that hot to the touch? Rick spent a moment looking and slowly touching it. Comparing a bit as guys are wont to do. It didn't take a lot of examination to tell that Daryl was bigger and thicker. Not enough to completely emasculate Rick, but there was definitely a noticeable difference.

Rick looked up again at Daryl and drank in the need and desire that filled his eyes. Rick licked timidly at the underside of Daryl's length. 

"That's it. Put that eloquent mouth of yours to good use, baby," he said with a growl but with a gentle hand brushing through Rick's hair. 

Rick took him full in his mouth, sucking and moving his lips up and down, taking Daryl's cock as deep as he could without gagging.

"Oh god, that's nice. That’s so fucking nice."

Rick reached a hand down to palm at his own dick through his jeans. Christ, just hearing Daryl's sex-soaked words was gonna make him come in his pants.

Rick used his hand and mouth, swirled his tongue and tasted the bead of pre-come that leaked from Daryl's slit.

"Stop," Daryl demanded.

Rick looked up with worry. "Did I do it wrong?"

"Oh no, you did it right, Rick. Just don't wanna come yet. Ain't even got into your pants."

"You haven't gotten into my pants," Rick corrected. He was fully aware that such a correction would get him scolded, but he wanted to pull more of those sexy demands from Daryl's lips. 

"You think you're being cute, Mr. Grimes?" Daryl asked with smirk. "Take off your pants." Daryl sat on the bed and scooted back a little, watching Rick's big reveal.

Rick still had the comforting buzz of champagne trailing through him. Just the right amount to take away enough of his inhibitions to stand before Daryl, stark naked.

Daryl looked him up and down. From long, loose curls...to blue eyes that looked lost at sea...to tight, firm, tan abs... to a long, hard cock desperate for release, to those sexy bowed legs that Daryl desperately wanted wrapped around him. 

The artist bit at his lip. "How drunk are you?" He asked cautiously, suddenly worried about taking advantage when Rick might have regrets.

"Enough to have the guts to do what I want and not too much to worry about having regrets."

Daryl nodded. "Good answer. But not enough to get out of your punishment. Lay down across my lap," Daryl instructed as he bit at his bottom lip in anticipation. 

Rick crawled onto the bed and laid down on his stomach over Daryl's lap, his cock pressing against the artist's thigh. Daryl carded his fingers through Rick's thick curls with one hand and rubbed circles around one ass cheek with the other. 

"You're a real good listener Mr. Grimes. I like that," Daryl murmured, then he swatted one hand gently against Rick's ass. "Don't like being corrected for grammar though. How many smacks do you think you deserve? Four maybe?"

Rick turned his head so it faced Daryl and looked up at him from his position.

"However many you think is fair, Mr. Dixon." Rick answered, obediently. Daryl licked his lips and continued rubbing Rick's ass. 

"Christ man, you're gonna give me a heart attack." Then his voice went softer. "Why are you letting me do all this?"

"Feels nice to let go of everything," Rick answered as Daryl twisted his finger around a curl of long hair. "And I trust you. Well, not to grade essays for me or anything, but I trust you with this." Rick wiggled his ass against Daryl’s hand. “I can take it harder, y’know,” he whispered.

Daryl grinned deviously and bit at his lip as he brought his hand down harder on Rick's squirming ass. The older man let out a gasp. The sting felt warm and it sent chills up his spine. 

"You want me to stop?" Daryl asked.

"No, you said four," Rick whined. 

Daryl grinned and looked Rick over from head to toe, memorizing him for a sketch later. "Not gonna do anything too extreme...this time...but you should have a safe word in case you want me to stop what I'm doing, ok?" Daryl asked as he rubbed the sting from Rick's pink ass. "If you want me to stop anything, just say... Uhhh... ArchBishop, ok?"

"Yes," Rick said.

“Tell me your word so I know you heard it,” Daryl instructed.

“Archbishop,” Rick said quickly “But I’m just repeating because you asked, not saying it because I want you to stop.” Rick wiggled his ass against the palm of Daryl's hand again.

"Jesus, you're eager," the artist said and followed it with two hard smacks. Daryl felt so empowered with Rick across him, one hand tangled tight into his lover's hair and the other kneading his flushed ass.

He was so hard he could burst and he felt Rick's length still hot and hard against his thigh. Daryl hadn't had anything other than his own right hand since he broke up with that community college tennis instructor. It was shortly after that when Daryl filled his daily spank bank with thoughts of the English teacher that was now squirming under his touch.

Daryl leaned back and reached blindly for his backpack at the foot of the bed.

"What are you doing?" Rick asked, lifting up on his elbows to look back.

"Thought you trusted me?"

"I do, just curious," Rick said as he raised up more trying to look at what Daryl was digging for. Daryl came up with a bottle of lube and held it in front of Rick. 

"Was thinking about going straight to fucking you. Unless you're chicken?" Daryl said grinning.

"'M not chicken," Rick said with pupils growing even wider. The writer stayed in his position on Daryl's lap. The thought of being taken was making him tingle and want in places he didn't even know he had.

Daryl ran a hand slowly down Rick's back. He wanted this. But the problem was he really wanted it. "I don't just go around fucking people, Rick. So I need to know if this is just a testing the waters kind of thing or if you’re lookin’ for somethin' real."

Rick got up off Daryl's lap and knelt on the bed next to him, cocking his head at his new lover. 

"I'm not looking to get my heart broken," Daryl added, eyes dark and suddenly bashful as they looked out between strands of his messy long hair. The boldness of him taking a back seat for a moment as he was filled with nervous self consciousness.

"I don't just go around fucking people either," Rick responded.

"So you're not just doing this because you're a new gay that wants to try it?" the artist asked.

"No. I'm a new gay that wants to try you. Specifically. ‘Cause you're dark and broody and sexy as fuck and you have eyes like an angry ocean that I want to be swallowed whole by." 

Daryl’s mouth went dry. He loved the way Rick talked, the way he used words. Even in his dreams he hadn’t expected this man to be so verbal. He put a hand on Rick's chest and guided him back down to the bed, regaining his confidence, then he moved the writer's feet up, gently spreading his legs to display his virgin hole.

"Gonna open you up for me, ok?" He said as he squeezed lube onto two fingers. 

Rick nodded. He felt like a teenager, hard and desperate, flutters in his belly at the thought of these hands on him. He'd watched Daryl on the bus as he drew, nimble fingers on his pencil. Flipping it to erase, holding it at different angles and changing the pressure depending on what part he was drawing, his pinky finger swiping out to brush away eraser dust. Then holding the page out and biting on the yellow wood of the pencil as he critiqued himself.

He liked watching those fingers move and the thought of them inside him made him shiver in anticipation.

"Relax," Daryl whispered. "Don't be nervous."

"Not nervous," Rick said smugly. 

"Really? You should be. Hurts like a bitch the first time." Daryl smiled his evil, flirty grin again and the bashfulness that overcame him moments ago was completely gone.

"It does not!" Rick insisted as Daryl pressed a slick finger against his entrance. Though the writer almost hoped it would hurt a bit. Give him a twinge of pain that screams his surrender to Daryl and makes him feel it, feel like this man is just taking. 

Daryl slowly pressed into Rick, watching his face contort the whole time. Once Daryl noticed the writer breath again after a few seconds of holding it, he started to slide his finger in and out. Rick's hand dropped reflexively to his own cock but Daryl grabbed for it first. "I'm in charge of this," Daryl said. 

Rick's eyes rolled back in his head at the thought of Daryl in charge of his body. And he thrust down searching for more of Daryl’s finger.

Daryl began slipping the second finger into his needy, writhing lover, slowly stroking the older man's cock as he did. "Rick, I think you’re going to be insatiable. Look at how bad you want this. You won't be able to get through a day of school without me. Gonna have to drag you into the art room closet between classes and let you fuck yourself on my dick."

Rick groaned and muttered some rather unintelligible words for such an educated wordsmith. Daryl circled his fingers and stretched them. 

"You want more Rick? Alls you have to do is ask." Daryl said as he lowered his head to Rick's chest to grab a nipple between his teeth and tug.

Rick moaned loudly. "Yes, I want more. Please," he cried.

Daryl laughed softly. "Convince me to fuck you."

"Please, Daryl. I ...please. I'm tight and warm. I'll be good for you. I can take it as hard and fast as you want to give it to me. Please. I want you to fuck me, to take me and be in charge of my body and..." Rick stiffened suddenly and growled, "Jesus Christ!" He shouted.

"That's the spot I was looking for," Daryl grinned. "The one that's gonna make you come looking for me during your free period. Looking to have your ass pounded before you can concentrate on grading." 

Daryl slid his fingers out and Rick breathed heavy, "no, no, no... Don't stop. Please Daryl. Please." 

"Don't panic, there's more coming, darlin'," the artist said as he applied lube to himself and stroked his cock. Rick's eyes were on Daryl, twinkling with an alternating look of predator and prey, a deep, dark blue like the very deepest part of the ocean.

Daryl couldn't wait to to watch him fall apart on his cock, to watch him come and shudder with explosive relief. 

"I've had my eye on you, Rick Grimes. And now you're mine."

"Take me," Rick pleaded. "I'm empty. I need you inside me, now. Please, Daryl. I'll beg. I'll do whatever you want."

The artist slowly pressed his cock into Rick's slightly stretched entrance. God he was tight and he gripped Daryl's cock like a vice. When Daryl was balls deep inside, he paused, "Tell me how I feel."

Rick's lips parted and he took a breath before he answered. "Like you own my body. Like I'm finally filled where I've been empty for my entire life. Like I want to give you anything you ask for so you'll take this from me again and again."

Daryl pulled out agonizingly slow and Rick groaned along with the movement the entire time. Then thrust back in slowly. He wrapped a hand back around Rick's cock and smirked in satisfaction as the man below him gasped and arched up off the bed.

"I can assure you, Mr. Grimes, you're gonna feel this in the morning."

"God, I fucking hope so," Rick groaned as he tried to move his ass to chase after Daryl slow-moving cock.

"So eager. You want me harder and faster?"

"Yes!" Rick cried out.

"Beg me," Daryl whispered so softly Rick almost missed it. 

“Fuck me, Daryl. Hard. Fast,” Rick cried out. And Daryl pounded into him harder. “I want it like animals, wild and raw, like it’s your natural born instinct to fuck me. Like you own me,” the writer nearly sobbed. And Daryl thrust with abandon. Rick barely recognized the sound of his own voice groaning out these lascivious desires, but Jesus did he ever want what was happening. “Make me yours, Mr. Dixon.” Daryl continued to pound into him through his litany of pleas and kept a strong hand on Rick's cock, stroking at a desperate pace. "I wanna see you come all over yourself, Rick. I wanna see you filthy, covered in your own seed."

Rick cried out in sounds that were trying to be words but were failing miserably and his cock pulsed a steady arch of white onto his stomach and chest. The whimpering that fell from Rick's lips as he gripped into the comforter and shivered from his release sent Daryl's impending orgasm into an explosion of pulsing, tingling ecstasy. And Daryl rode it longer than he ever had before. 

The artist would need it again. And soon. When it was just his own hand, Daryl could get by once a day. But when he had a man like this, he was like an animal with an instinctual need to breed his mate as often as possible. Like his DNA would force him to mate and mate and mate until babies were born. And since it was impossible for two men to breed like that, Daryl knew it would be an endless drive to fuck Rick as often as possible until they were dead and buried.

"Again," Rick groaned below him, boneless and spent. Sated. "When can we do it again?"

Daryl laughed. "Tell me how it felt," he requested as he pulled out to a gasping pout from Rick.

Rick's quickened breath and racing heartbeat started to slow. "It felt like mountains forming and stars exploding, like the perfection of poetry and the overwhelming rightness of a cloudless sky."

"In English, Shakespeare," Daryl grinned as he situated himself next to Rick and dipped his finger into the puddle of release on his lover's stomach, swirling it in his chest hair and over his nipples, then bringing his finger to his lips like he did with the chocolate and sucking it off.

"Mmmm," Daryl moaned as the taste of Rick enveloped him. 

"Felt like need,". Rick said simply. "I need you."

Rick rolled over and rested his head on Daryl's chest, while the artist ran fingers down the long lean lines of his lover's side.

"What happens now?" Rick asked. 

"We call room service for real food, watch some South Park and then you spread your legs for me again in a few hours."

Rick smiled against him. "You're a bossy lover.” 

"Yeah, I'm needy too. Gonna need to have you a couple times a day."

"So this really isn't a one time thing?" Rick asked.

"This isn't even a one time tonight thing," Daryl said as he kissed the top of Rick's forehead. "We've got miles to go before we sleep."

"Hey!” Rick said leaning up on his elbows. "That's Robert Frost!" 

"Yeah." Daryl said.

"Doesn't really mean sleep though," Rick said in his lecture voice.

"I know that. I majored in literature, dumbass. I just prefer art. I was talking about our bigger picture."

Holy crap! A lit major? Maybe Daryl could write Rick sonnets. 

"Do you own a suit?" Rick asked.

"I had one when I was seven but I don't think it fits anymore. That a deal-breaker?"

"Nah. Don't need a suit to make me come like that. Just curious."  
\--------------------

The two teachers stood by the bus doing a head count as students filed in at the end of the next day. Rick couldn't stop thinking about Daryl and he stole glances as the kids loaded into the bus. His ass burned from three rounds of sex with Mr. Dixon in the last twenty-four hours.

As the last of the kids climbed on, Daryl turned to Rick and whispered, "I'm gonna sketch a picture of you spread eagle on your desk during the ride home," and he climbed on the bus without giving Rick a chance to respond.

Before they’d even made it the Holland Tunnel, Daryl had his sketch pad out. He leaned his back to the window so he faced Rick as he drew. 

“Stop doing that. You’re making me self conscious,” Rick whispered across the aisle. 

“Ohhhh, purse your lips like that again, I just got an idea,” he said quietly as he pointed with his pencil to the drawing that Rick couldn’t see. 

Rick gave the artist a sexy pout and folded his arms. “Stop it. It feels like you’re undressing me!” he said through his teeth.

Daryl’s eyes darted down to his sketch. “Oh, you’re already undressed, Mr. Grimes.” Rick tried to keep the smile from his lips and he dug for some papers to grade as a distraction. Christ, was he going to be hard every damn day at school now just from Daryl walking past and lifting an eyebrow at him? He spread out some homework over the bulge and tried to read Macbeth essays.

“Hey, Rick,” Daryl whispered. 

“What?!” the older man snapped.

The artist scooted to the aisle and leaned over like he was pointing to something on the essay. “Do you want this one to have my cock already inside or should I draw it so it’s just getting ready to plunge into you?”

“Stop it!” Rick whined with all the flair of an angry five-year-old. He lowered his voice. “You’re gonna make me come in my fucking pants.” 

Daryl grinned wide and sat back against the window. “Language, Mr. Grimes.” 

Rick felt someone plop dramatically in the seat behind him followed by the distinctive sound of bubble gum snapping. 

He’d avoided eye contact with her when they loaded the bus but he’d seen her fist bump Daryl. Rick had given him a harsh glare at that but the artist just shrugged as if to say “what else could I have done?”

“Mr. Grimes. Since when have you had to be told to watch your language. Did NYC make you dirty all of a sudden?”

Rick looked to Daryl for help but he was completely absorbed with his sketch. The writing teacher turned in his seat. “Ms. Harrison,” he started, without any idea about how to continue.

“Yes, Mr. Grimes?” she chirped innocently.

He sighed, ran a hand through his hair and looked over at the strong, muscled body that now basically owned him. Daryl frowned and erased, then darted eyes over to Rick, smiled and mouthed “At the next rest stop. I need you.” 

Andrea was still peering at him, but Rick couldn’t be bothered to care because all his focus was centered on Daryl. On the picture he was agonizing over. On the upcoming rest stop. On the evening once they got back to Atlanta. And every day afterwards. Because all of it would be Daryl. All of Rick would be Daryl’s for the rest of his life.

“Nothing,” Rick answered, ignoring the sound of the bubble gum popping behind him. And instead he looked seductively over at Daryl and spread his legs just the slightest bit to pose for the sketch.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday, bestie! I hope I made it everything you hoped for and more!
> 
> Thanks to the amazing lucife56 for coordinating with me on this fic so that we could provide a fic with art included! Her drawings are exquisite as you can see. Please subscribe to her other art here on AO3 and on Tumblr under the same name. She is fabulous and has amazingly talented sketches of lots of Walking Dead characters and combos. 
> 
> What did you guys think of the new combo piece with Illustrations included!? 
> 
> And also- If there is anyone left on the planet that hasn't read Skarlatha's epic fic, Shadows Where I Stand... now's a great time to check it out!! :-)


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